In Time for Christmas
by Drauchenfyre
Summary: A short little bit on Harry and Draco after the war... rated for dark themes.


**In Time For Christmas**

A Harry Potter Fanfiction

by Drauchenfyre

A/N: This story inspired by a sub-plot in the fanfic "Matchmaking Granger" by vagrantboy.

STORY

_21 Dec 2001_

_Somewhere in Tianjin Province, _

_People's Republic of China_

_Pre-Dawn_

Draco Lucius Malfoy regained consciousness as his face was submerged in ice-cold water. Within seconds of his thrashing, a hand at the back of his shirt collar yanked him from the water with enough force that he staggered and hit the opposite wall of the dingy rented room with more force than was comfortable. Draco looked through bleary eyes and saw an image he'd hoped never to see again-

Harry James Potter, looking absolutely furious.

Harry sized up his old school nemesis. The three years since the war had not been kind to the formerly proud scion of the Malfoy family- two years in Azkaban for his war crimes had been followed by Draco dropping out of sight over a year ago. He'd found the blond ponce higher than a tree full of monkeys on helium in an opium den that was so run-down, Dung Fletcher wouldn't have gone in.

Draco glared at Harry before noticing something that raised the danger level of this meeting- the badge over Harry's heart was NOT a British Auror's badge.

A Marshal. An ICW Marshal. _SHIT._

To call the Marshals the ICW's Auror force was an understatement- the Marshals were the elite of the elite, drawn from the best in the world. There were only ever 49 (seven times seven) Marshals at any given time, new members were chosen by the existing members, and they had only one prejudice- they required the best! Britain had not had a representative in the Marshals in the last century. Even Alastor Moody before he lost his leg and eye had not made their cut- and he'd been the last Brit even offered the chance to try.

"You're a hard man to find, Draco."

Draco ried to focus on Potter's face, only to barf on the floor, narrowly missing both of their shoes. Wiping his mouth with his sleeve, he replied, "What of it, Potter? I paid my debt. It's my life. I'm not hurting anyone but myself. Why are you harrassing me?"

"Ah, see, that's where you're wrong, Draco. You ARE hurting someone. I may not like her as a person, but Sirius did name me Head of House Black in his Will, which makes me your mum's Head of House. A certain concern for her well-being is to be expected. And I gotta tell ya, Draco- you're hurting Narcissa. You're hurting her bad."

"M-mum?"

"Do you have any idea what you're putting your mother through? She's frantic trying to find you, she doesn't even know if you're dead or alive. So much for 'Pureblood family values'-"

"You don't know what it's like!" screamed Malfoy. "Malfoys rule from the shadows- we aren't thugs and murderers! The things I had to do under that monster- the things I did to survive, to protect my family- I need to forget! I need to burn them out of my mind!"

A sharp slap silenced the Pureblood. "You think you're the only one who did things he hated? I led friends into battle- I got my godfather killed through my own recklessness! At eleven years old, a man died by my hands! You think the answer is to cut off the few people who give a damn about you and let them suffer while you try to commit suicide by drugs? Your mother can barely feed herself with her worry! Your father is so hopeless, the Warden at Azkaban has twice checked to verify a Dementor didn't remove is soul without authorization! It was WAR, Draco! We ALL did things we hate- on BOTH sides! It's time to GROW UP!"

Harry pulled a small brass plate from his pocket and stuffed it in Malfoy's hand. "This is an International Portkey. When I activate it, it will drop you on the doorstep of the cottage where your mother is staying. For once in your miserable, pathetic, whingy excuse for a life you are going to do the right thing, rather than the easy thing, and SEE YOUR MOTHER FOR CHRISTMAS! DO YOU HEAR ME?!"

Draco glared at Potter, but in his heart, he knew Potter was right- through he'd rather gargle basilisk venom than admit it. He wanted his mother. Sullenly, he nodded.

Grabbing the portkey hand, Harry said, "I want my Mummy."

An interminable period of whirling later, and Potter and Malfoy were on the doorstep of a snow-covered cottage in a country town in rural England. Straightening out his own jacket, then Draco's, he reached towards the door and knocked, _Tap, Tap-tap, Tap, Tap, (PAUSE) Tap, Tap._

A rushing of feet, the rattle of door-locks, and the door opened to reveal a pale and bedraggled Narcissa Black-Malfoy, clad in a bulky-but-warm-looking dressing gown. Instantly as she lay eyes on her son, she pulled him into her arms, and both began sobbing in each other's arms. Narcissa looked at Harry and silently mouthed, 'thank you' to him. Harry nodded and turned to walk down the garden path as Narcissa pulled Draco inside. Molly and Hermione were waiting up for him. It was time to see _his _family.

END


End file.
